


All I Want for Christmas Is You

by NewtPevensie



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Christmas, Cute, Fluff, How Do I Tag, M/M, Mind Palace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:34:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25261681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NewtPevensie/pseuds/NewtPevensie
Summary: It's Christmas Eve and Roman can't sleep. Virgil isn't sure he can calm him down, but he's going to try. Prinxiety fluff.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders
Kudos: 62





	All I Want for Christmas Is You

_All I want for Christmas is you._

  
Virgil rolled his eyes at the song blasting through the mind-house. It was the night before Christmas, and all through the house, Roman played music loud enough that no one could sleep, not even a mouse. 

  
Unless someone did something, Thomas would not be having a very merry Christmas tomorrow. Remy would get all pissy, and would try and make up for it at random times over the coming days – not a scenario Virgil enjoyed dealing with, as his workload increased, with the fear of missing deadlines and disappointing Thomas’s audience. 

  
Logan would not be the first choice to deal with Roman when he was like this – they would get into a shouting match over the meaning of Christmas and whether the hype was necessary. Patton wasn’t the best either – his childlike personality always dominated at Christmas, which meant that he and Roman together would get even less sleep than if they stayed apart. Deceit would be no help whatsoever – _No Thomas, it’ll be fine. Who needs sleep anyway? You’ll enjoy tomorrow more if you stay awake for the whole buildup._ And Remy… well, for the personification of sleep, he wasn’t all that great at getting people to actually calm down. Must be the coffee.

  
Which left him. 

  
Virgil sighed, then pushed himself out of bed. No use putting it off – the sooner Roman was dealt with, the sooner he could actually get to sleep. 

  
He padded across the hallway to the source of the noise. He knocked on the door, more out of politeness than actual expectation of being let in. His suspicion proved correct when he heard no answer, so he pushed the door open a crack to let him peer in. 

  
Roman was dancing around the room, harmonising instinctively to the singer’s high voice with his powerful bass. The resulting melody was hypnotising, but Virgil shook himself out of his awe. His voice was good, sure – as part of Thomas, it was a virtual certainty – but he couldn’t do anything like that. The extent of his creative musical genius was occasionally adding a riff or two. 

  
‘Roman!’ he called. His friend didn’t react. ‘ROMAN.’ 

  
For once, Virgil felt that his fear-voice was actually being put to good use. Usually it kicked in when he got too overwhelmed, but somehow he’d managed to control it – even if it was just to get Roman’s attention. 

  
Roman finally heard him. With a flick of his wrist, he turned the music down so it was only slightly louder than background noise. 

  
‘Festive greetings, my melancholy magus! On this glorious night, how can I be of assistance?’

  
‘Well, for starters, you can speak normally. You sound like a Christmas card,’ Virgil groused. ‘Secondly, I’m trying to sleep. You, apparently, are not. So. Options. Either you turn the music down, or you go to sleep. Capiche?’

  
‘How could one possibly sleep on a night such as this? It is the night before the most magical day of the year – which in some ways makes this the most magical night of the year.’

  
‘I thought the summer solstice was more about magic,’ Virgil muttered.

  
Roman continued as if he hadn’t heard. ‘I could not possibly sleep. Think of all the stories told about this night! All the stories we know – and all those we don’t! Surely you must understand my excitement – discovering new stories about Christmas from other cultures! Other times! Inventing new ones for the future! Isn’t that exactly what this time of year is for? Creativity! Magic! Storytelling!’ 

  
Roman looked as though he was going to continue, but Virgil took the tiny pause of the other Side taking breath as a signal that he could step in. ‘That may be so, Roman, but don’t you think you’re taking it a bit far? It’s –’ Virgil looked at his watch ‘– 2 am. Thomas needs to be up in about five hours. With at least two of us awake, he won’t get any deep sleep, which he definitely needs to be able to deal with his family all day. And you need to be able to continue _after_ Christmas – Thomas’s audience is waiting for new content, which you won’t come up with if you’re half-asleep.’ Virgil hated playing that card, but sometimes there was no other way to reason with Roman. 

  
Roman frowned. ‘You may be right, my chemically imbalanced romance… I do need to be at my best to help Thomas… but Christmas only comes once a year! Giving up this opportunity for magic and creativity could not possibly be justified by so common a reason as sleep.’ 

  
Virgil took a deep breath, trying to calm his growing temper. Sometimes Roman could be so _pig-headed_ , it was a wonder Virgil liked him so much in spite of it. Or possibly because of it. Whatever. Not the issue.

  
He had to think of another way to get Roman to calm down. 

  
The volume of the music was starting to increase again as Roman grew more and more frantic. He whirled around the room, random pieces of paper appearing behind him, floating gracefully to the ground. Virgil picked one of the nearest pages up, finding it covered in Roman’s swirling handwriting. Ideas for videos, random quotes from films, song lyrics, snippets of stories… it was all there, a strange mixture of past and present creativity. There was no rhyme or reason to it, no pattern, nothing linking them together.

  
_Is this what Roman’s head is like all the time?_ Virgil asked himself. _How is he still sane?_

  
_Is he still sane?_

  
‘Hey, Roman? Can I try something?’ 

  
The other Side barely heard him. Reluctant to use his fear-voice again, Virgil waited until Roman’s whirling brought him back round to his side of the room. He darted towards him and clamped a hand on his shoulder. Thankfully, that got his attention. 

  
‘What now?’ Roman snapped, pieces of paper floating down around them. 

  
‘Can I try something?’ Virgil repeated. ‘I’ve tried it with Patton a few times, and Logan once or twice, and… I think I can help.’

  
‘Help with what?’ Roman asked suspiciously.

‘Your head,’ came the simple answer. 

Roman frowned, but nodded once, warily. 

Virgil sat down on the floor, tugging his friend down next to him. Seeing him shift uncomfortably on the carpet, Roman snapped his fingers, making two ruby cushions appear underneath them. Virgil half-smiled in thanks, but his face hardened as he focused. 

Ever since the _Accepting Anxiety_ videos, Virgil had been trying to find ways to make use of his anxiety, rather than either trying to block it out – which usually made it worse – or allowing it to take over, resulting in fights with the other Sides. Somewhere along the line, he’d had the idea of trying to connect with one of the others, in an attempt to understand their mindset better, and to try and find the source of his anxiety from another perspective. He’d tried it first with Patton, and it had worked surprisingly well, allowing them both to understand the other better. That was probably part of the reason why he and Patton had become so close. 

  
It had worked with Logan as well, albeit to a lesser extent. Logan’s theory was that since both Patton and Virgil were governed by the more emotional side of the spectrum, their connection was likely to be stronger. 

  
He’d never tried with Roman. Not because he’d never felt the need to, but rather because he didn’t know how his friend would react. Their friendship was still fairly tentative, and he thought that pushing the connection too far too fast might snap it completely if they weren’t ready. But since picking up that paper, since getting a glimpse into the inner workings of Roman’s mind… Virgil wasn’t so worried.

  
He brought his hands up to Roman’s face, touching his first two fingers to each temple, and closed his eyes, concentrating.   
‘Close your eyes,’ he murmured, ‘and let your mind wander. If there’s something you don’t want me to see, lock it in a box – I won’t look.’ 

  
Virgil would usually let his mind drift, waiting for it to match the rhythm in the other’s. But Roman’s mind was too frantic, moving erratically from one idea to the next, without any real pattern to it. Virgil found there to be something familiar in the chaos, though it took him a few moments to work out what it was.

  
It mirrored the chaos in his own.

  
Anxiety didn’t have logic behind it. It was irrational, based off your own fears and worries, flitting between theories and outcomes and actions, indiscriminate of whether they were likely, possible, or completely fantastical. For the first time, Virgil realised that Roman was his true opposite, much like Patton was Logan’s. Creativity wasn’t logical either – it fed off hopes and dreams and imagination. It didn’t have to be grounded in reality; in some ways, the more fantastical the better. 

That realisation brought Virgil an element of relief: while he still had to calm Roman down, at least he knew how – the same way he brought himself under control.

Virgil imagined a door between his mind and Roman’s. Opening it, he sent through some of his most peaceful memories: movie night with the other Sides; the melodious crashing of waves onto the beach; the song White Christmas, slow and deep and hopeful. 

Slowly, the mess in Roman’s mind began to order itself, the jumps between thoughts taking longer, the twists no longer so sudden, the difference between subjects less stark.

Suddenly, in the middle of the slowing whirlwind, a box appeared. It was purple, with black markings on the sides. Curious, but true to his word, Virgil left it alone. He headed back to the door he had created, but before he could close it again, something followed him through. A red bubble with gold sparks floating through it bobbed into Virgil’s mind, bringing with it the smell of hot chocolate and cinnamon, the scratch of a pen on paper, and the feeling of euphoria when the curtain goes down on show you just performed. Then the bubble popped, bursting into a scene… no, not a scene, a memory. A memory of the four of them together, sharing a blanket, watching a film. But something stood out – something remembered from a different perspective. 

An increased heartbeat. 

A flash of warmth as someone’s leg brushed against his.

An inner glow of pride and trust as someone’s head leaned against his shoulder. 

A whispered _what if._

Virgil gasped as the connection broke, bringing him back to the present, sitting on a cushion on the floor of Roman’s room.

  
He opened his eyes. ‘You sent me a memory.’ The shock of it hadn’t worn off. ‘No one else managed to do that. I thought it was a one-way connection. Could you…’ he hesitated. ‘Could you feel my mind? Separate from yours?’ 

Roman nodded slowly. Virgil realised his hands were still pressed to Roman’s temples. He dropped them, ignoring the little voice inside him that whined at him for doing so. 

He swallowed. ‘Do you feel better?’

Roman nodded again, never breaking eye contact. Virgil usually didn’t like holding eye contact for more than a few seconds at a time, but for some reason couldn’t bring himself to look away. He was suddenly very aware of how little space separated them, and how heat was almost radiating off Roman. 

He took a breath, about to say something – anything – to break the building tension, but he didn’t get the chance. Roman had leaned forward, closing the short distance between them, and kissed him. 

Roman was kissing him.

Roman was _kissing_ him. Roman was kissing _him_. 

And Virgil was kissing him back. 

For a while – seconds, minutes, he didn’t know or care – his mind went completely blank. Nothing mattered except the feeling of Roman’s lips on his, the gentle hand resting against his neck, the soft strands of hair tangled in his fingers. But when the pair drew apart, breathing heavily, and rational thought set in again, Virgil remembered why he’d come in the first place.

‘Roman, you still need to sleep,’ he said softly.

‘Fine. But only if you stay.’ Something in Roman’s voice made it sound like a request rather than the order the words themselves would suggest. He sounded tired, and not just from the lack of sleep. From too long being too strong, not being understood by the other Sides – something Virgil could empathise with. 

‘Alright.’

They both got into Roman’s bed, which was easily wide enough for four people. They didn’t curl up together, but Virgil’s hand found Roman’s in the darkness, their fingers intertwining. 

‘Goodnight, Hot Topic,’ Roman mumbled, half-asleep already.

‘Aww, you think I’m hot,’ Virgil answered, the teasing words from months ago taking on a whole new meaning after seeing Roman’s memory. ‘Night, Prince Charming.’

Roman huffed out a laugh, which quickly turned into the slow and even breathing of one deeply asleep. His body relaxed next to Virgil, but his hand stayed firmly entwined with his.

As Virgil’s eyes drifted closed, one thought floated through his mind. 

_All I want for Christmas… is you._


End file.
